Hero Chiu
by XooDoo
Summary: Just another story.


If the world a millennia ago, defined by the use of advanced stone mechanics, was called the Stone Age, the world hundreds years ago, defined by the British giving everyone a taste of its dominance, was called the Age of the Empire, then, I ponder, what is the world now called? The digital world? Tech World? The world of technology?

Dwelling deep in my thought, struggling to come up with an adequate name for the modern era, I reached a stunning conclusion that in the end, no one gives a shit. By the trend of the modern naming mechanics, it might as well be aptly called 'eWorld' for its uniqueness. It is after all, simply a mixture of realities. But I am not here to tell the life of a plebeian tweeting about his/her exquisite dinner or any of the virtual reality bullshit, but rather, the tale of an ancient hero, the tale that carries on its shoulders an enormous impact that could still be visible today. Allow me to present to you his name: Sir Chiu 'Miskys' Cyrus, a true hero upon which peasants across different ages could only admire.

Years upon years, wars raged on and new heroic tales were born. Years upon years, the thought of a utopian world would become the goal of thousands, only to be shattered by the honour and glory of fighting bravely in the front line. Inevitably, there came a person, some calls him the Savior, others a Maniac, who at one point in time was just the same as everyone else, fighting for honour, fighting for his country. Of course, there were some who simply could not stand the constant battles that the country demanded of them and would therefore curse and condemn the world, but this particular person took his frustration to its logical end.

Faced with mindless, brainwashed enemy pawns in what would later be known as the Sauron War, he steadied his stance with his rapier in line with the enemies and stared upon his opponents with a burning vengeance. A vengeance that was directed at an ill-fated world, an animus that was so innate that one could call his existence the ultimate product of a conflicting world. With his mind shattered and his soul consumed by hatred, the distasteful and hostile gaze of his enemies only served to anger him. Sometimes he wondered... _what was it about him that a random person could hold such anger upon him?_

Silently, he cursed at the downfall of humanity, being reduced down to none other than a puppet whose emotions could hardly be called his own. Silently, he looked at his enemies, just a few steps away, with a smirk, a smirk that would spell the end of his humanity as he decided to take on the responsibility of correcting this misguided world. Infuriated by the gaze of his adversary, he ended the lives of his enemies with swift strikes and had their eyes gouged out, an end he deemed fitting to those who fostered such animosity against him. With a trail of eyeballs rolling happily behind him, he commanded his weapon, a cursed, bloodstained rapier, to gather these poor leftovers and fused them to become an Eye that would forever gaze upon the world with never-ending hatred, a curse that would shadow the place for ages to come.

I guess he took an eye for an eye rather literally.

Sometime later, a wanderer, a remnant of war whose life shared similar fate with the Sauron War, visited the mountain where the battle took place. Unfazed by the fallen soldiers and their gruesome state, he walked on, almost as if being surrounded by corpse and blood made him feel at ease. Without a purpose in mind, he kept his pace steady. Without attending to what might be ahead, he dwelled in the music of weapon clashing. The dead silence and the prevalence of blood scent sent him into an illusory world of war with which he felt the most familiar.

He was so absorbed into his fantasy world that only until he stepped on a liquefied object then he realized he had already come so far into the mountain. Curious, he turned back and noticed a demolished eye with inviscid water mixed with blood flowing out of its torn ligament. Unaware of its significance, he snorted and continued his journey.

The cursed Eye, a collection of the remnants of the fallen soldiers, fused by a vengeful spirit in the form of a blood-seeking rapier, inherited not only the physical form of an eyeball, but also the malignant nature of humanity that was only manifested prior to a mortal's imminent death. Born out of hatred, its nature was the embodiment of evil. Bathed in wrath, its existence was sure to be feared by many.

Combining thousands souls was not an easy feat, different consciousness forced into one could only spell disaster. However, merging souls that harboured only singular intent in the form of retribution was another story, the Eye had unified the consciousness of its constituents.

Since its birth, the Eye condemned its creator for confining its very essence into a mere eyeball. All the burning emotions, all the hate for the twisted world, waiting to be unleashed. Being created for the purpose of gazing upon the world with a hidden vengeance, for the purpose of showing the world how ridiculous such a singular emotion was, all of these within an eyeball. An eyeball doing nothing on the ground but being an eyeball. And so it wondered, lying helplessly on the ground, _was it being mocked? Having the souls of many only to be bound to the ground..._

Fanning its rage with hateful thoughts, its contemplation came to an abrupt end when a mortal stepped on it, causing its vitreous body to be splashed open, leaving its interior bare. The life of miserable confinement only to be faced with such a pitiful end.

However, when its scattered consciousness was about to vanish into thin air, the thought of being stepped on by a mere, filthy mortal fueled its exasperation. The desire to exact vengeance on the mortal world intensified as it slowly pulled back its fragments of consciousness. With a piece of the demolished eye as the center, a gravity field was then created and all the avenging spirits in the vicinity spiraled towards the Eye, enhancing its spiritual existence as well as its emotions. With only vengeance in mind, the demolished eye evolved into an eye of greater size, an entity people would later refer to as the Eye of Sauron.

But at this point in time, the Eye had nothing in its mind but one purpose: To torture the wanderer who dared to berate the Great Eye. And so for hours it rolled down slopes and bounced around the mountain, all the time seeking for its killer.

It did not take long for the Eye to come face to face with the wanderer in a small hut, as it would appear that the wanderer was too drunk on cider later on in the day to even lift his limbs. Disgusted by the sight of a pitiful mortal and realizing this mongrel was its murderer, the Eye shot out its bloodshot 'arms' and did a 360noscope right through the wanderer's chest.

Seemingly still in his disillusion, the wanderer writhed and twitched on the ground while occasionally letting out a loud squeal. _Masochist_ was the word that crossed the mind of the Eye as it watched the wanderer squirmed, looking like he was about to let it all out. Almost as if the wanderer was not feeling the blood that came gushing out of his holed chest, he crawled towards a table and forcefully broke apart one of its legs.

 _Fighting even with a hole in his chest, a valiant warrior indeed._ The eye silently complimented the wanderer, only to realize how wrong it was in allowing such a thought to cross its mind when it watched as the wanderer shove the table leg right up his ass, exerting incredible amount of force on one end in order to ejaculate on the other.

The Eye could not bear to watch any longer and decided to end the wanderer's life there and then. Legend has it that the same table leg was used as a gravestone for the wanderer in memory of his heroic encounter with the almighty Eye of Sauron. It was truly a heroic act, some might even call it, 'explosive'. But nevertheless, the hero found a glimpse of hope by the end despite spending most of his years in an absolute hell in the form of peace. Till this day, when people of the eWorld, new world people as we call them to celebrate the dawn of utopia, the end of war-hungry breed, take notice of this ancient history, will often pay this place a visit, to witness the gravestone of a brave soul who once challenged the Cursed Eye to an intense duel, a battle, no matter how one looks at it, can be called a victory on multiple sides. The Eye got its revenge, the hero got his bliss, and the world was rid of a hero who, if left alive, would put a stain upon his reputation. It is perhaps better for the world to be ignorant of his other acts, and so hero shall we call this man, a hero whose name Chiu 'Miskys' Cyrus, will till this day glimmer with pride.

There is however a rumor, albeit an unpopular one, that Sir Chiu may still be alive amongst us. During his encounter with the Eye, the hero chose to give up his sanity in exchange for eternal bliss. And so the Eye extracted his soul, leaving a living corpse wandering around the land of chaos, alive but nescient, present throughout different eras.

However, the identity of the Savior, the instigator of all, the creator of the Eye remained to be unknown. To some, the Savior gave birth to an all-seeing Eye, the divine entity that the new world people worship. To others, a maniac who, in a burst of rage, created an existence full of vengeance which would later continue to haunt humanity for years to come. But one thing for certain, his creation spelled the end of the wanderer: the end of his life to some; the loss of sanity to others.

A tale that goes around the new world has it that perhaps it is all karma. Maybe at one point in time, the Savior and the hero both fought on the field of justice, a battlefield only legends of the legends would come forth and partake in. The hero, with an outgoing attitude, would often role-play as a blind monk and failed to be aware of his surroundings, and often losing the battles single-handedly. Top it off with an attitude that the Savior believed would definitely warrant a ban from the battlefield authority, the Savior secretly wished for the demise of this nuisance so he could climb further, higher, to a place only Gods would challenge. If this tale was true, it would only be natural to discern the identity of this Savior from examining the past comrades of the wanderer, and one name immediately sprang to mind – Fay Leung, a warrior who the hero, in his early days, would shamelessly ask to get carried.

~Finale~


End file.
